


Karl Keeps His Promise

by jennandanica, valuna



Series: A Distance Erased [3]
Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, in some cultures, talking is foreplay."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Karl Keeps His Promise

**Author's Note:**

> The year is 1997 and the place is Auckland, New Zealand. Harry's a director/actor and Karl's an actor. This is _not_ Est backstory and is in no way canon for that game.

Karl takes Harry at his word. Comes back a couple days later with the bike.

He has no idea if Harry's home. Could've looked his number up and called but that would've taken way too much effort and more thought than he's wanted to give the other man. Besides, if Harry's not here, he'll walk down the road to the diner and call a cab. He could care less. _Yeah, right. Try again_. He exhales softly, scuffing the toe of his boot on Harry's front porch and finally knocks, hands shoved into his front pockets as he waits.

Harry isn't waiting. He hasn't been. He figures Karl either will or won't come back. Either way, he goes on with life. The knock at the door, first in two days, doesn't surprise him, though, and he puts down the book he's reading, pulls himself from the couch and walks to the door. Barefoot, jeans slung low and shirt half-buttoned, he quickly runs a hand through his hair, more an automatic move than needing to fix anything.

He's smiling when he opens the door. "Hi. You just dropping it off or staying?"

Fuck, Harry looks good. Sounds good. That voice. Goddamnit. Karl would do just about anything to be able to curb his reaction to the other man. As it is, about the only thing he can do -- other than walk away (and he's not quite ready to do that) -- is to not let Harry see it so he shrugs casually. "I don't have to be anywhere," he says. "Guess I could stay for a bit."

"Okay." Harry steps back into the house, leaving the door open. He's not going to show any more emotion than Karl, if he can help it. "I was reading, thinking about a nap," he says, settling back onto the couch, stretching his legs out. "Might be a game on somewhere. If you do sports."

Karl closes the door behind him. Sits down beside Harry, leaving a fair bit of room between them. "Yeah, I do sports. Prefer to play them but I watch a bit." He glances over at Harry. "So, how have you been?"

"Fine. Working." Harry leans over, retrieves the TV remote from the coffee table and drops it on the couch between them. "What kind of sports?"

"Playing or watching?" Karl asks, following Harry's every movement. Trying to figure out why the hell he's here. "What are you working on?"

"Both. Ideas for a script." Harry watches Karl watching him. _Why are you here?_ "It may or may not come to anything. Just something to do."

Karl nods. "Football, basketball, cricket." He shrugs. "I'm easy. Whatever you want to watch." Pauses, biting at his bottom lip. "Mind if ask what kind of ideas?"

Harry looks over at Karl, studies him a minute. "You don't look the cricket player. Can't see you in white." He grins, picks up the remote and toggles the television on, flipping randomly till it lands on something. A movie. Old one. "Random. Was listening to Russian symphonies and got swept away."

"It's a bit fussy for my tastes, yeah, but I can play and I'll watch it occasionally." Karl tugs at a loose thread on the inseam of his jeans, wrapping it round his finger. "Not sure I've ever heard any Russian symphonies."

_Nervous habit._ Harry notes Karl's working the seam. "Liadov, Rimsky-Korsakov. A lot of Russians composed for the Ballets Russes. Have you ever seen a ballet?"

Karl shakes his head. "Never known anyone into ballet," he says, twisting the thread until his finger turns dark red, the blood pooling in the tip. "You like it?"

"I like the music. The dance is inconsequential. Mostly I close my eyes and just listen." Harry watches more closely. "It _is_ possible to cut off a finger doing that. I don't imagine you really want to lose it."

Karl laughs. "I've been doing this for years. Haven't lost one yet." He unravels the thread though, letting the blood disperse. Looks over at Harry. "You really want to spend the time I'm here watching television?"

"You brought the bike back, I asked you to stay. You think it was just for sex?" Harry smirks. Sure, sex is part of the reason, but it's not the only aspect.

"Not sure what to think," Karl says, suddenly wondering if this is all part of one huge mindfuck and he's simply too fucking stupid to see it. "I'm not usually wanted for my scintillating conversational skills."

Harry thinks on that. Long minute. Keeps his eyes on Karl. "If I wanted nothing more than quick fucks, I'd just spend my nights in town, cruise the alleys," he says, leaning into the couch back. "You averse to talking?"

"Not averse to it, no," Karl says, not sure how to explain things. "I just tend not to mix sex and friendship." There's a hell of a lot more to it than that but that's as far as Karl's willing to go.

"Oh, that's different," Harry says, considering his reaction to the revelation. It speaks volumes. "Let me get this straight. I want to fuck you, that's okay. I want to talk, then I can't fuck you?"

It sounds stupid when put that way but Karl has his reasons. He shrugs. "Yeah, usually." Biting his lip with the admission, the thought that he might be willing to make an exception for Harry not one he wants to give voice to.

Lip biting. Another nervous habit. "Got a question, Karl." Harry stretches his arms, rubs at the bridge of his nose before rolling his head sideways. "I make you nervous?"

_Fucking hell_. "I don't know if nervous is the right word," Karl murmurs, watching Harry closely.

"Then relax, mate." Harry grins. "You want a beer? Might calm you a bit."

Whatever Karl'd expecting, the offer of a beer wasn't it. "Sure."

"Give me a sec." Harry pushes up, walks to the kitchen. _What the fuck are you doing? Walking off, leaving him sitting there._ The nature of friendship and sex, a double-edged sword Harry's played with before. He's had sex with friends and kept them about as often as he's lost them. He just never equated sex with friendship or thought them mutually exclusive. He grabs two beers and snags a bag of chips from the cabinet.

Left alone, Karl contemplates leaving. Making his excuses and getting the hell out of here. Every second spent with Harry feels like he's getting himself deeper into something he should running from. But Christ - he's never been one to play things safe so why the fuck would he start now?

Harry half expects the room to be empty when he comes back, so the smile's slightly skewed as he walks back in, settles onto the couch, a little closer this time, dropping the chips between them and passing an opened bottle to Karl. "Munchies if you're hungry," he says, plopping down. "You know, in some cultures, talking is foreplay."

Karl laughs, thanking Harry for the beer and slouching a little further down into the cushions. "This from the guy who wanted to know if I needed prep before he fucked me," he teases.

"Well, I'm quixotic, Karl." Harry sips at his beer, matching Karl's slouch down. "Would you feel better if I just ripped your clothes off?"

"Maybe," Karl grins, grabbing a chip and popping it into his mouth. "It'd be easier to know what to make of you then," he adds.

"Quit trying to read me, Karl. Just enjoy the ride." Harry isn't flustered, but he doesn't know what to make of such a cautious lover. He has to wonder where Karl's been burned before, who set his senses on such sharp edge. "There's not a lot more to me than what you see. A guy who likes life and whatever it offers."

_Just enjoy the ride_. Easy enough for Harry to say. Karl's never had the luxury of taking things as they come. He ignores the comment, turning his gaze back to the television and snagging a handful of chips. Nudges Harry's shoulder. "You have any idea what this is?"

"Yeah, 'Strangers on a Train,' Hitchcock, 1951." Harry turns the bottle up, takes a long swig. "Good noir mystery. Ever see it?"

Karl shakes his head. "I've seen some Hitchcock but not this one," he says, sipping at his beer. "You like mysteries?"

"I like good stories. If there's a mystery involved, it adds a layer. Can't stand a story without layers." Harry grabs a handful of chips, puts them on his leg and eats one by one. "Fluffy romantic comedies. Hate 'em."

"Yeah, me, too," Karl nods, grabbing one of Harry's potato chips just for the hell of it. He pops it in his mouth. "You read or just do movies?"

Harry tracks the theft, lightly shakes his head. "Read all the time." _See, Karl, it's not so hard to have a conversation._ He smiles. "Got addicted to print early on, being raised by two professors."

"What do you read?" Karl asks, slouching a little further until his leg's resting casually against Harry's.

"Good science fiction, some fantasy, mysteries," Harry says, noticing Karl's movement, not moving himself either toward or away. "A lot of non-English works. You?"

"Science fiction, mysteries, psychological thrillers," Karl says, eyes flickering between Harry and the television screen as he tries to keep up with movie. "Some non-fiction."

Harry can tell Karl's torn between the movie and the man. It's fun to watch, simply because, if anything, Harry's a student of people. "It's not really a great film," he says, nodding at the screen. "Definitely not one of Hitchcock's best. But the premise is intriguing. If we were strangers and met and I asked you to kill my lover, would you? A jumping off point for studying human psychology, if you will."

"I guess it depends on what I'd get in return," Karl says, flashing Harry a wicked grin as he polishes off his beer. "What's he get? In the movie?" More than willing to have Harry fill in the blanks for him.

"They agree to exchange murders, wife for father, but it doesn't quite work out." Harry's not working his beer quite as fast. He takes another sip and stretches over, sets the bottle on the table, still a quarter full. But the chips are all gone from his leg, half of them eaten by Karl, he knows. Doesn't matter. He shifts, half-turns and pulls one leg up on the couch. "The trust falls apart. Life doesn't work well without trust."

Karl shrugs. "Maybe. It also doesn't work so well if you give that trust to the wrong people."

"You do that a lot, Karl? That why you're skittish around me?" Harry stretches his arm over the back of the couch, fingers barely touching Karl's shoulder.

"Me? Nah," Karl shakes his head, chuckling softly. "Once burned was enough," he says, sitting forward. "And I'm not skittish. I'm wary." He grins, making the words into a joke, a tease.

"Once burned. Recent?" Harry moves forward, touches with more intent, rubbing his fingers over Karl's shirt. He keeps his voice light. "Anyone I should want to hurt?"

Both the offer and the concern -- genuine as far as he can tell --take Karl by surprise. "No, not recent," he says quietly. "And not something I want to talk about."

"Fair enough." Harry smiles. It's genuine, too. "For now." He moves his hand along Karl's arm, slipping it around the back of Karl's neck. He leans forward, kisses Karl quickly. "You can always tell me that story some other day."

Karl kisses Harry back. "Don't hold your breath," he whispers.

"You into that?" Harry licks the corner of Karl's mouth, kisses again, tightening his fingers a bit.

"Into?" _Oh, fuck_. The realization robs Karl of his breath as surely as Harry's fingers. "Yeah. Told you. I'm into just about anything."

Harry chuckles. _Caught you by surprise. How nice._ "Figured as much. Young. Eager. Willing to try everything." He kisses Karl again, a good bit harder, right on the edge of rough.

"_Have_ tried most things -- including that," Karl corrects, breathing a little heavier. "Just hadn't pegged you as being into it." Suddenly nipping at Harry's mouth.

"Excuse me, boy, didn't realize you were so experienced." Harry's breathing doesn't change, his voice still even with the tinge of mischief. "I'm into a lot of things, easy to rough."

"Well," Karl murmurs, drawing the word out, "you're not going to be into any of them with me if you keep calling me boy."

"Really? What if that's how I want to play it?" Harry's fingers constrict, holding Karl's neck in a near-vise grip. "What if I give you no options?"

Karl reaches up, pulling Harry's hand from his neck, his eyes gone dark. "Then I'd say you've picked the wrong guy to play with."

Harry shrugs, not pulling his hand back, but rather lacing his fingers into Karl's. "Would that be a permanent situation?" he asks, still casual. "Or are you open to negotiation?"

"Open to negotiation for what?" Karl asks, staring at their fingers, his chest suddenly so tight he can barely breathe. _You're just a fucking challenge to him_.

"Roles. How we play." Harry places his free hand on Karl's chest. He can feel the heart skip a beat, the breathing slow to almost nothing. "It's all give and take, Karl, a relationship. Negotiation on where we go. That sort of thing."

"How's this a relationship?" Karl asks, Harry's touch making it all that much harder to think. "You don't even know me. You don't know anything about me."

"You're not helping." Harry smiles. He wonders if he's waging a losing battle. Karl's too skittish, too wary, to use Karl's word. "Putting up walls at every turn."

_Fuck_. Karl exhales softly, still staring down at their fingers. "Fair enough," he says, going with his gut instinct when he asks, "What do you want from me?"

"A bit of trust that I'm not going to hurt you." Harry slowly lets up on the tightness of their fingers' twining. "Honesty would be nice," he says. "You want to stay?"

Karl would've thought that was already clear. He'd've been long gone if he didn't. But he can understand Harry asking. Wanting to have the words from him. "Yeah," he nods, hoping like hell he's not making a mistake with this. "I want to stay."

"We want the same thing then." Harry did need the words, to know it was Karl's decision to stay, not something being forced on him. "How about we start with the rest of the night and see where we end up?"


End file.
